Furious Angels
by grayout
Summary: [Rude x Reno] [Rude—centric] And if you go, furious angels will bring you back to me...
1. Chapter 1

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**Furious Angels**

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**Chapter 1**

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** WARNING: **The first chapter is NOT PG-13. Skip ahead to the second if you are not over 17.  
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"Rude?" Tones of relief, quickly fading into nothing. "You're here."

"…yeah."

A pause. The sound of a door closing quietly behind him.

Inhalation. Exhalation. "I'm… leaving."

"…"

"I'm leaving."

"Injured?"

"No."

"Break?"

"No."

"Mission?"

"No. For good."

Rude immediately reached for his gun, whirling around and pressing the tip of it into Reno's forehead. "Traitor."

Reno just looked up at him blankly, head tilted up, eyes devoid of fear. "Kill me, then…"

"…"

"Do it."

With a soft, intense curse, Rude lowered his gun and turned his back, gritting his teeth. "Go."

"That's it?" Shock, surprise. "You're not even going to ask—"

"No."

"—why I asked you here?"

Rude twitched at that, locking the safety on his gun. "No."

"No cameras in here." A pause, then a rush of words. "No one else knows—"

Adroit. "Neither do I."

"You… knew, didn't you? That I'd break. That I couldn't take it. The injuries. The failure. The hate. The… everything."

A nod.

A long pause. Then, slender arms were around Rude's waist, pulling him close as a smaller body pressed against his back. "I… wanted to ask. One more time. For old times' sake…"

A human wall.

"Rude…"

Silence.

"You're going to be hunting me down."

Twitch.

"At least let me leave with a good memory."

Crumbling.

A lean upward, a chin at his shoulder. The rush of warm breath across his cheek. One whispered word.

Breakdown.

"Please—"

Then, Rude's lips were pressed to Reno's, pushing him back against the wall. Hands, frantic on both sides, pulled at jackets, shirts, belts, pants, dropping them carelessly onto the floor. Sunglasses tossed to the side, arms entwined, hips pressed together, skin on skin, only breathing…

Hesitation.

Confusion. A raised eyebrow.

A worried glance downward.

Confusion, then a blink. Acknowledgement.

Hesitation.

A dark grin. Reno, handing you a Potion.

Flat words. All business. Turk-style.

"Not enough? I'll bleed."

Anger. Refusal.

Matching anger. "Come _on_. We don't have _time_."

Acknowledgement. Gritted teeth, closed eyes, a brutal kiss. Throwing his weight forward, Reno's back smashing into a nearby table, and then-

A muffled cry of pain, fingernails digging into Rude's arms. Letting go. Climbing to his shoulders, circling around his neck, urging him on. More whispered words through teeth pressed tightly together with pain.

"Keep going…"

Hands leaving his neck, trailing down his sides, clutching at the edge of the table. Knuckles white with pressure. The quiet sounds of the table's steady creaking beneath them. Reno's head, pressed back against it, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, chest heaving with the effort to stay silent.

"Yes… Gods, _yes_…"

Hips, thrusting up against his own. Desperation in Reno's eyes, before they slid shut. Strained, stifled noises of pain and ecstasy.

"Just like that… _just_ like that…"

Breathing, audible now. A light sheen of sweat, glistening in the stark, moodless lighting. A clatter of small falling office objects, swept off the table by Reno's arms as they moved to place his hands behind Rude's shoulder blades. Reno, curling upward to capture his mouth with his, lips locked together with bruising force.

Lips then torn away. A panting, whispered plea to the ceiling. "Stop… don't stop… don't… stop…"

Hands at Reno's hips, one holding him down, the other teasing gently, then firmly, then beginning to pump. A long, low, despairing moan. Reno's teeth biting down hard on his lower lip to keep from crying out.

"Gods… _yes_…"

All thought banished. Frantic movement. Matched breathing, fingernails at Rude's back again, bright drops of blood against unmarred skin. More whispers into his ear, words of desperation, pain, anger, pleasure, love.

"Gods, yes—Gods, Rude—Gods—_yes_—!"

A shiver beneath him, then an unsuppressed cry of bliss, tearing into the silence. Warmth, exploding against his stomach; warmth, tightening around him; warmth, rushing through him and into Reno. A soft, answering groan.

"Gods…"

Silence, reigning again.

A minute, maybe two, maybe five, just looking at each other.

Then, Reno shoved Rude aside gently, climbing off the table and wincing as he landed on his feet. Blood on them both: Reno wiped some of it away with a dry laugh. A hand, thrust toward Rude, fingers glistening red.

"Told you I'd bleed."

Rude sat up, watching Reno move. The red-head went immediately for their clothes, and, sorting through them, tossed Rude's toward him. Both began to dress, methodically, neatly.

Reno threw him his watch. Rude caught it, checking the time.

"Break's up."

"There's a meeting upstairs, right? Sixty-fifth floor?"

A nod.

"I'm going to call in sick." That dark grin again. "Or not call in."

"…"

Reno went to the door, glancing back at Rude to make sure that nothing appeared out of the ordinary, then pulled it open. "I won't be back. So… I'll be seeing you." He bent, picking up his sunglasses from the floor and sticking them onto their usual place on his forehead. "When you come to kill me."

A rare smirk from Rude. A joking, yet deadly serious tone. "Run fast…"

"You're kidding me, right? Of course I will be. Once you even find me." A pose, a smirk in return. "I _was_ a Turk, you know."

A pause. Silence. Two pairs of eyes, reading each other from across the room.

Determination in the green pair, burning bright and hard.

In the other pair, quiet defeat, quickly covered by nothing.

Rude began to rise, hesitated, and sat back down, closing his mouth.

A flicker of pain flashed across Reno's features before they settled back into his usual cocky nonchalance. "Yeah… yeah." His voice was agonizingly false, grating at the edges. "It was good. It was all good. But I just gotta go…"

One hand, lifted in goodbye.

Another, still bloody, lifted in response.

No apologies. No thanks. No farewells. No promises.

Reno's non-bloody hand went to his mouth as he grinned, lips pressing into it to blow Rude a final kiss.

"Come and get me, lover."

Then he turned on his heel, and with a cheerful slam of the door, Reno was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

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**Furious Angels**

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**Chapter 2**

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Burning Reno.

No. _Erasing_ Reno.

A starkly lit computer room, almost devoid of shadow, empty save for three suits. Off, save for one computer. Silent, save for the soft sound of typing. And motionless, save for the pale green streams of flowing data reflected in expressionless shades.

Name, history, identification.

Typing.

Bleep.

And he was gone.

A man no more. An entity no more. A target?

Merely.

ShinRa had no need for memories, after all. What was completely gone couldn't be proven. Not by paperwork—all burned. Not by eyewitnesses—they were biased, or insane. Not even by Reno himself—all those scars could have come from anywhere.

No one trusted a Turk, anyway.

Rude leaned back in his chair, glancing up at Tseng. "So."

Tseng stood, looking down at Rude. "So."

A female voice burst in from the side, accompanied by waving arms. "So?"

A slight, tired sigh from Tseng. "Search parties go out tonight. It shouldn't be too hard to find him."

"But… Reno… he knows like, _everything _about Midgar…"

"He hasn't had the time to dye his hair or change his physical appearance much if he'd been running and hiding, which we suspect he has. We have every reason to believe that this was a spontaneous decision on his part."

"You mean… he just walked out? Why?"

"Reasons are currently unclear to us. His psychological profile seemed fine until now."

"But… we're Turks! Reno… Reno was a Turk! Turks don't just snap and drop everything and leave—"

"Sometimes they do, Elena. There simply are no records of them." A clear warning.

Ignored. "That idiot! That _idiot_! He just committed _suicide_! Doesn't he realize that he doesn't have a _chance_—"

"Yes."

Two heads, frozen, then swerving toward Rude.

Tseng, suddenly suspicious, but calmly in control. "Did he tell you something?"

A shake of his head.

"But—but—" Elena, stammering. "Hey! You were the last person to see him, right? He had to have said _something_. We all _know_ Reno. He wouldn't just leave like that!"

Tseng, reluctant, but nodding his agreement.

"Come on!" Elena again. "You talked to him, right? Sort of? What exactly did he say?"

_Come and get me, lover._

Rude shook his head. "Nothing."

"He can't have said _nothing_. He talks as much as—" Elena blinked, then smiled a little, sheepishly, even through the tension. "Me."

"He means Reno didn't say anything important, Elena."

"I _know_ that, Tseng, I'm not an idiot!" A huff. "But maybe there was something important that you missed, or something. A hint. A clue. Some _reason_."

_You… knew, didn't you? That I'd break. That I couldn't take it. The injuries. The failure. The hate. The… everything._

"Wasn't there _anything_?"

A long pause.

Finally: "He asked me to kill him."

Elena fell silent, eyes opening wide.

Tseng just nodded again, apparently not surprised. "And you didn't ask why."

"No."

A glance, unreadable, shot toward Rude. "You assumed he had gone slightly insane; we all do, at times. Am I right?"

A nod.

Understanding.

None from Elena. "But… he was _Reno_! Reno! You _knew_ him! Hell, even _I_ knew him! How the hell could you believe—"

Wince.

An icy Tseng. "Shut up, Elena."

Blue eyes opening wider, staring at Tseng, then Rude. Confusion. Doubt. Worry. But a mouth falling shut.

"Once we find him, we're going to kill him. He knows too much, and we can't have him running around and possibly spilling ShinRa's secrets, or acting as an example of the Turks' failure to… silence traitors."

Hesitation.

"It's what happens to every deserter. Reno knew this, of course. He should be…" An almost amused half-smile. "Prepared."

More hesitation.

"If we don't do it, ShinRa will. Us or them. If nothing, he'll die by the Turks' guns."

Silence.

Then a nod.

Then another one.

"If… if it's really that… inevitable…." Elena's voice, higher than usual. "We… owe him that much, don't we?"

No response.

Fear in her eyes.

Rude decided that she would never be a traitor.

Silence, looking at each other again.

"Then," Tseng waved a hand. "If the erasure is finished… Dismissed."

And it was over.

"I said, dismissed."

The eulogy of a Turk.

Shuffling of feet, bodies getting up. Listless, subdued. Heading for the door.

"I'm… going to the shooting range." Elena, turning around. As always. Soft words to Rude. "Don't… get too drunk, okay?"

Hypocritical words from a hypocrite. "You care too much."

Guilt, shame. "I know. But I'm trying…" Hope. "I'm gonna be like you some day. You know. All silent. Cold! Then maybe Tseng'll start treating me like a real Turk."

Silence. Then: "Don't—"

"Rude." Interrupted by Tseng, gesturing him back into the room. "We need to talk for a moment, please. Elena, you are still free to go."

A nod from Elena. A touch on his shoulder. "Later, then." Then departure.

Turning back, walking across the room toward Tseng. Able to see, but for some reason unable to feel his feet hitting the floor.

Looking up. A raised eyebrow. "Tseng."

A pause, a contemplative look.

"Do you know," Tseng asked, one hand rising to his chin, "how many Turks I've had to kill during my stay here?"

A shake of his head. "No."

"Four," Tseng said, counting off on his fingers. "Darv, Kent, Zeir, Awren."

A questioning glance.

"I see." A frown. "Guess how many of those were traitors."

Frozen silence.

An answer anyway. "Two."

Understanding.

"And Reno _will_ be the fifth."

No response.

"Now. What I wanted to discuss with you…" Tseng's hand, reaching out, pressing against the gun hidden beneath Rude's jacket. No pity in his words, but an odd sympathy in his touch. "Make sure that the total number doesn't stay even. For all our sakes. No need for a bigger mess than necessary."

A blank expression. Brushing Tseng's hand away. Casual, forced through a tightening throat. "Sure."

A nod, and another half-smile.

Hesitation, then a nod back.

"Then. Dismissed."

Departure.

Dismissed.


	3. Chapter 3

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**Furious Angels**

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**Chapter 3**

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Replaced.

Of course.

Why not? He was gone.

He, who?

The man, once called Reno, now with no identity, who had been replaced.

Could he even be called a "he" anymore?

No data. An unknown. Zero.

Replaced.

It was only logical. They were a man short. The replacement was the best of the prospectives. Strong, smart, clever. Good with guns, good with his fists, all-around better-than-average. And on top of that, funny. A generally likeable guy.

Rude still wanted to kill him.

That's what he thought of, now. That's what he thought of, now, running on the treadmill. Set to a crazy speed.

Guns, knives, fists, bats. Reno's old EMR, which he'd left behind. He wanted to kill him. Tear him apart. Leave that once-was-Reno space as a once-was-Reno space.

But it never would be. To live, burn out, die. Nothing held sacred, not even the Self. Reno had filled a once-was-someone-else space. So had he. They were all once-was-someone-elses. Even Tseng.

Replacing someone. Oh-so-easy.

Who had he once-been? Who would be once-him?

Don't think. Words in his head, a voice of logic. Don't think. Don't think. Just move.

Move.

Running. Running more. Then still more. Counting by minutes at first, then half-hours, then hours. Gazing without seeing into the giant mirrors along the wall. The other him, gazing without seeing back at himself. Mako-fueled muscles screaming in his mind.

Screaming was good. Maybe they'd drown him out.

Wait.

Him, who? Him, which? Him, Rude? him, Reno? Or him—

"Hey, man!"

The replacement?

A smash of a hand on a few buttons. Bleep. Slowdown. No more running. Barely out of breath. Not bothering to even turn to face him. "What."

"Nothin', just y'know, surprised to see ya here."

He even talked like Reno.

"I mean I never see ya around, man. It's like ya don't exist, or somethin'."

Rude hated him. Silently. Secretly.

"Shit. You got that 'unfeeling' shit down. You're like a robot, man."

Twitch. Reno had called him that, too.

"I never even see ya in the cafeteria… ya even eat?"

With you? Never. "No."

Eyes, widening. A blink. "You… serious?"

Always. "No."

A pause, then a laugh. A grin. "Hey, man, that's kinda funny."

Gritted teeth. Hands, tightening their grip on the handrails of the treadmill. Thoughts of grinding stones to sand. And possibly flesh and bones, too. The same expressionless gaze.

An awkward pause.

"Um." A stammer. "Y'know, so, I thought like, since me and 'Lena are starting to be friends and all, maybe you—"

NO.

"Screw off."

Another blink, then a flash of anger. "Hey, man. I'm just—"

A smash of a hand on a few buttons again, different ones this time. The hum of the treadmill starting back up. The track, beginning to move beneath his feet, his legs, beginning to move again too.

Running again. In place, like always. Gigantic, deadly hamsters.

Not funny.

His own breathing, filling his ears. Pounding. His heart? Maybe. Maybe just his feet on the machine. Maybe both.

Just move, just move, just move, don't think. Just move.

Just move.

A murmur of words beside him.

Ignored.

Another one, louder.

Ignored as well.

Then an angry arm, clutching at his, pulling him sideways and off the treadmill. Pitching forward as his feet kept moving, stumbling into one of the exercise bikes. Getting up, slightly dizzy. Turning around—

First, confusion.

Second, pain.

One split-second.

_Fury_.

"What the hell—!"

The replacement yelped as he smashed into the wall, pinned to it by one hand at his neck, thrashing about and trying without success to break free.

_Fury_.

Rude's face staring down at him, still expressionless as ever. No movement wasted, no extra energy spent, all efficiency. Business, even now, with anger held only in the hand cutting off his voice and his respiration and the other hand reaching into his jacket, confiscating his gun.

Then, only the gun, right between his eyes.

_Fury_.

Terror, reflected in dark, mirrored shades.

"Screw," stated Rude with infinite calmness, "off."

The hand at the replacement's throat tightened, painfully. The end of the gun stamped a little red circle between his eyebrows. Held one moment, there. The edge of death. Then—

Release.

The replacement, falling over onto the floor, bruises already forming along his neck. The replacement, gasping for air. The replacement, throwing him a quick glance of fear before scurrying off, running in a way Reno never would have. Footsteps pounding down the hallway.

Once-was-Reno.

And if it hadn't been against orders, what would now be once-was-once-was-Reno.

Warmth from the replacement's neck, still tingling in one hand. Wishing it were blood. Rude threw a disgusted glance down at the cold gun in his other hand, gritting his teeth.

Safety still locked. Not even dangerous. That idiot.

Reno would just have laughed, in his place. And maybe kicked him, too.

Damn it.

Stop thinking.

A careless toss sent the weapon sliding across the floor. Screeching of metal on metal. Sliding, sliding, then stopping.

Momentum and noise broken by a polished brown shoe.

Elena's shoe.

Her voice, as he climbed back onto the machine, stopping him in place right before he started up his running again.

Breaking the silence. "Rude…?"

Turning, a casual glance over his shoulder.

Blue eyes staring at him, hands halfway up in the air, frozen in place. A small mouth slightly open in shock.

So she'd seen.

…who cared. He'd never been… nice. She knew that.

Breaking the new silence. "What."

Confusion, hesitation, a shake of a blond head. "No…" Disappointment. "Nothing."

Fine. Turning back to the machine.

"Rude…" A quaver in that voice.

Turning back around again.

One hand at her side now, the other tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. "You know… it's… I don't know if… give him a break, he's just…"

A blank stare.

"No." Corrections. Taking words back. "No, nothing." A wave, turning away. "No, nothing. Sorry."

Watching her go.

Then: alone.

Currently-is-Rude went back to running.


	4. Chapter 4

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**Chapter 4**

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Blank.

Dead eyes were always blank. Filled with pain, maybe. Sadness. Usually, if it was a job done by the Turks, fear. But it was blank pain. Blank sadness. Unfocused fear.

Dead eyes were always blank.

But then, so were his. Or that was what Rude was shooting for, anyway.

She'd never seen him coming. But then, that had been part of the mission. Find the scientist selling ShinRa's secrets, get her alone, dispose of her. ShinRa didn't care. Short, long, easy, torture. Whatever means necessary.

A single shot through the temple had been all that was required.

Rude had always hated a mess.

Reno would have called it boring. Even though he never meant it. Cracking a joke. Grinning.

They all learned to deal.

Turning her over, checking her pulse, as if the giant hole through her head were invisible. Checking her bag, her pockets, stripping her down. Gloves coming on, a flash of a knife, the woman's stomach spilling open. Searching through warm, slippery entrails for anything that shouldn't belong.

Procedure.

Success.

A small diskette, maybe a centimeter in width. But enough.

Peeling off one glove, Rude reached into his pocket for a small plastic bag, dropping the diskette inside. He peeled off the other glove, tossing them both onto the still semi-recognizable corpse, and stashed the bag away into his jacket, rising to his feet.

All done.

She could rot, now.

Not even worth the trouble to hide.

ShinRa didn't pay for burials. Just death.

ShinRa didn't play for clean-up, either. Blue suits for overt. Black suits for covert. Blood, now, on the knees of his pants. Warm. Sticky. A human life relegated to: annoyance. Annoyance and 50 gil for dry cleaning.

They all learned to deal.

Walking back to his car, now. Walking back, through the slums behind the Train Station, where the dead annoyance probably planned to have a meeting. Junk, everywhere, lining the streets, not caring where the official yards started or ended or died. Kids, gangs, perched atop the dead machinery, staring down at him as he passed.

Whispers.

Turk? Maybe. Lookit. Cool.

Didja see him kill the girl? Who? Who cares? I wanna gun. Sca-ry shit, man.

I'm gunna grow up and work for ShinRa! Yeah my ass. No really.

Bet I can hit 'im. Betcha can't. Betcha can!

A rock, flying toward Rude's head. Stepping sideways, a mere three inches. A clean miss. Continuing on his way.

Whoa, didja see that?

Sca-ry shit.

Awe. Fear. Respect. Grandeur.

It used to feel good.

Back before other people weren't just annoyances.

Other things to worry about, anyway.

Reaching his car, Rude unlocked the door, got in, and immediately reached for his cell phone, turning it back on.

New messages? None.

A soft sigh of relief.

Weeks, now. Three, almost. No sign of Reno.

But the call would come, someday. Maybe when he had his phone with him, maybe when he was off on assignment. A message, signaling Reno's death, waiting patiently for him in his car.

Waiting. Weeks of ceaseless waiting. Twitching at every call on his phone, every building announcement, every time Tseng opened his mouth. Wishing it had never happened. Wishing it were already over. Wishing it never would be.

Thoughts of inevitability. Thoughts of blood, of gunshots, and death. Locked inside the Gates, no one escaped ShinRa for long.

Then, just wanting to see Reno again.

Then, just nothing.

The call would come, someday.

It had to come, one of these days.

Just please not—

Today.

Holding the phone in his hand, staring at it dumbly, sitting in the driver's seat of his car. Door still hanging open, key stuck in the ignition slot, unturned. Tseng's ID popping up on the little white screen.

Urgent. Orders. Urgent.

The call.

Ring. Ring.

Pick up the phone, Rude.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Fingers, edging their way slowly toward the buttons on the phone. Reaching them. Covering them. Afraid to push down.

Hesitation. Fear.

Ring, ring. You have a call.

Metal, beginning to heat up in his hands. Not an unpleasant feeling. A terrible feeling.

Pick up the damn phone.

Closing his eyes. Pressing down. Shoving the phone next to his ear.

"Rude." Tseng's voice. Immediately. "Mission status?"

A nod, before realizing he had no choice but to speak. "Comple—"

Cut off. "No matter. Come back to HQ. Now. Those are orders."

Breathing stopping. Heart starting to pound anyway. Mouth going dry. Feeling his stomach sink into his chair, through the floor of the car, into the asphalt of the ground below. Bleeding onto the street.

Rude couldn't ask.

He didn't have to.

Tseng's voice, covered in a soft layer of static, speaking calmly into his ear.

"They've found Reno."

When?

Where?

Who?

How?

No. Tseng would never tell him. Not while he was alone. Not while he was alone, with no one there to shoot him if he chose the wrong side.

Tseng knew.

Too long of a pause. Obvious. Mental, unspoken curses, hidden behind a dead tone. "…sure."

"Then." Approval, maybe at his lack of response. "Details once you get here."

The murmuring of several voices, maybe several dozen, humming in the background behind Tseng. Sounds of measured footsteps. Elena, yelling over a crowd.

SOLDIER, maybe. Calling the troops. After all, Turks were dangerous, even alone.

A massacre was better than a loss.

So it was really happening.

Words through tight teeth. "Sure."

A sharp exhalation from Tseng. A smirk? A snort? A sigh? Impossible to tell. Maybe all three.

"Expect you in fifteen, Rude. Be here." His voice, as calm as ever. "Time to get to work."

Click.

Connection dying in his ear. Then, only static.

Rude pulled his car door shut, snapping his phone closed and placing it back down next to him.

So this was it.

That was it?

No drama. Only blood, cooling down on his knees. Clammy. Sticking to his legs. Annoying.

Ignored.

Pulling out from the junkyard. Checking behind him. Carefully.

Mechanical motions.

Procedure.

Drive.


	5. Chapter 5

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Chapter 5**

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Tseng.

Elena.

Forty-two other faces.

All of them, just for Reno?

…he'd be proud.

Surrounded, then, by SOLDIER. No more time for thoughts. Tseng on one side. Elena on the other. Familiar body heat, but identities lost in the crowd.

Pushed toward the waiting cars. Boarding, with the other Turks. Tseng, across. Elena, diagonal. The replacement, next to him, edging away.

The rumble of engines. The jerk of the car starting to move. Then the pleasant hum of driving, and tires on the street, marred only by the sounds of the city itself.

Seconds. Minutes. More minutes. Endless minutes.

Endless.

If only…

Tseng, meticulously cleaning his gun. Elena, glancing at him, then doing the same. The replacement, nervously following suit.

Swipe. Check. Click. Swipe. Check. Click.

Rude just sat, hands in his lap, unmoving.

"So…" Elena started, for all of them. "Where exactly are we… where exactly is he?"

"Hiding. In the Reactor in Sector 4."

"A Reactor!"

A nod.

"Who would have thought to check inside an already secured area? Genius, really. He's held out about six times as long as any of the others. He probably just walked right in, and never came back out. It's quite possible, with the rotation system of the guards' schedules and the cafeteria built into the Reactor itself. Easy access, in and out, very little chance of discovery, with the lack of cameras and the angles of the ones that the Reactor does have…"

Tseng, losing himself in details again.

They all learned to deal.

"So we're going to the Reactor." Elena, interrupting for once.

"Yes."

"To kill Reno…" Elena, shaking her head in disbelief. "I… I can't believe… Reno. We're going to kill Reno…"

Denial.

Dealing.

"He'll probably be armed. On your guard, as usual. Always remember that this is an ex-Turk we're after. It's him or you." Casual words from Tseng. "The SOLDIER are merely here to aid the other guards in securing the area."

A glance toward Elena.

A glance toward the replacement.

A glance toward Rude.

Held.

A glance, becoming a piercing stare.

"This job is ours. We go in."

A nod from Elena.

Another nod from the replacement.

Rude forced his head down, then up. The final nod.

"Oh, and." Tseng, flicking his eyes toward the replacement. A half-smile. "Rookie… you stay out."

Offended. "What? Oh, come on—"

"Out." Icicles in that quiet voice. "That's an order."

"But—"

"Disobey it and die."

A sullen, reluctant nod.

A glance toward Rude again.

A nod back, this time sincere.

Then, silence, for a few more minutes. Watching Tseng sway a little, back and forth, with the movement of the car. Expressionless faces watching expressionless faces, drawing strength from each other.

Suddenly aware of the weight of his gun in his jacket. Suddenly aware of each and every bullet. The smooth, heavy feel of metal like cold fire against his chest.

Us or them. Him or you.

Reno would shoot back.

And if he didn't?

No point in thinking about that.

Better not to give him a chance, anyway.

Orders were orders. A job was a job. Those who disobeyed…

Became Reno.

Became nothing.

Were made nothing.

The car, turning, swerving, slowing, then coming to a halt. A slight jerk. The sounds of the doors of the cars around them opening, dozens of feet tramping the ground. Spreading out. Circling around.

Their own doors, opening. Filing out, one by one by one. The replacement, staying behind, sulking in the corner. Tseng and Elena, guns in hand. Drawing his own, just in case.

In case what?

His hand, tightening on the grip. Heart beating a little bit louder. A little bit faster.

In case nothing.

Just in case.

Tseng, flashing his ID at all the other soldiers. Unnecessary, but procedure. "Has the barricade been properly set? No one has been seen entering or leaving the building?"

Affirmation from the SOLDIER commander.

"Good. We're ready to go inside." That half-smile. "Tell your men to prepare for anything."

SOLDIER, weapons at the ready, a loose blue-purple ring of uniforms. A circle, breaking now to let the three Turks through. Tseng, nodding his gracious thanks. Elena, trying to smile. Himself, silent as always.

Pressing through the SOLDIER. Skittish movements, drawing back, not wanting to brush against the Turks. Shying away from that aura of cold. Rude figured they probably scared them.

Good.

He wouldn't have minded killing them right now.

Just for one wrong move.

No one made any.

Now, the steps of the Sector 4 Reactor, leading up to the Reactor itself. The Reactor itself, looming above them in all its rusted, metallic glory. A dark entrance. A cave mouth. A portal to brilliant, fiery, mako-fumed hell.

And somewhere, in all that machinery, Reno.

Ready to be killed.

Ready to kill them back.

Which was worse?

Climbing the steps, slowly, unhurriedly. Closing in. No rush. All the time in the world. Reno had nowhere to run.

A pause, before entering.

Hesitation? Maybe.

Maybe just for dramatic effect, craning their necks upward to take in the sight. Posing against the darkly majestic background. Craning their necks upward to _make_ a sight, to show the SOLDIER that the Turks would always have something they didn't. Deserters from SOLDIER were never hunted down like this.

Looking up at the Reactor, then beyond the Reactor, to the smoggy sky above. No freedom, anywhere. Trapped.

Three outside. One inside.

All of them equally dangerous.

One more second of hesitation, then a firm nod and a glance backward from Tseng. One hand, raised, frozen, then beckoning, just once.

Shuffling behind Elena, heading through that gate. The warmth and smell of mako exploding in his face. Grouping in the small entryway as Tseng pushed the button near the door, sealing it shut behind them.

Rattle, rattle, clang.

No escape.

Then silence, except for their breathing and the puffs of mako-exhaust.

_Come and get me, lover._

Get me, before I get you.

One bridge over the mako.

"Let's go."


	6. Chapter 6

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**Furious Angels**

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**Chapter 6**

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-

Splitting up. Fanning out. Rude, left. Elena, right. Tseng, right down the middle.

All exits covered.

No escape.

A nod from Tseng to Elena. A nod from Elena to him. A nod from him to Tseng.

"Move out."

Beginning to walk. One foot in front of the other, then that foot in front of the first. Wanting to lower his head, wanting to watch his feet to make sure they kept going, wanting to run out of that Reactor. But not. Eyes up, looking around, aware of every single movement, every single sound.

Wanting to see Reno before Reno saw him. Wanting to see Reno, period. Wanting to never see him again.

Automatic doors, sliding open with the touch of a button. Another door, another button. A third pair.

An elevator. Going down. Doors, sliding open again.

Ding. You've arrived.

Reno?

No one there. Safe.

For who?

Heading out, gun clammy in his hand, even though his gloves. Holding it tighter, as if that would help. As if that would make a difference. Gazing about. No movement anywhere, except the pulsating mako below. Stairs, to one side, a mini-reactor in front of him. Checking it. Nothing.

Heading down. Wishing he'd stopped Reno, for the five-hundred forty-eight thousand, two hundred and first time. Then immediately, again, for the five-hundred forty-eight thousand, two hundred and second time. Then a third. A fourth.

One for each step.

Hiss of mako-gas around him. Unnatural warmth. Glowing in the dark, no need for lights. Cold brilliance.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs. Stepping down onto the solid mako. Slippery, beneath his feet.

Looking up. No movement. Looking down. No movement.

Wishing he'd find Reno. Wishing he wouldn't. Listening for gunshots, echoing from above.

None came.

Turning, heading for the only door left. Check there, and then, back up to meet Tseng and Elena. Check there, and if he didn't see Reno, Reno was already dead.

Who'd kill him? Elena? Tseng?

Maybe he'd kill them.

Which was better? Which was worse? Watching him die? Not being there?

A hand on the door, the metal oddly warm. Slightly rusted. Slightly stuck. Pushing it open, quickly ducking aside, gun up, just in case.

Silence. Or at least, no unusual noises.

Peeking around the corner. Brightly lit control room. Empty. Lights, blinking across keyboards and screens. Chairs, pushed aside in a hurry. Chairs, empty.

All in working order.

Stepping inside, ready to hear distant gunshots at any moment. Examining the screens, idly. Not wanting to be out there to hear. Waiting for the phone in his pocket to vibrate, Tseng's voice in his ear telling him Reno was dead.

A minute. Two. Three.

A soft, hesitant footstep.

Click.

Immediately grabbing his gun. Flinging his arm out. Whirling around.

Staring down the barrel of his gun at the barrel of Reno's. Then, staring past them both, at a pair of green eyes that stared back at him.

A challenge.

Conversations, shot between each other. Wordless. Timeless. Understood, like thought.

Kill me.

_You_ kill _me_.

You first.

_You_ first.

Just do it! Kill me!

_You_ kill _me_!

Bitch!

Bitch yourself, lover.

Gritting his teeth, knowing that those green eyes knew they held his through his shades. Arm, warm against Reno's, Reno's arm, warm against his. Just breathing, just listening to Reno breathe.

Frozen in time. Or wishing for it, at least.

Gunpoint.

Then, his phone, vibrating against his hip. Reno, twitching, then pretending he hadn't. Grinning.

Ring. Ring.

"Pick it up. They want you, man."

Reaching down with his free hand. Sliding the phone out of his pocket. Bringing it up for Reno to read.

"Tseng."

A nod.

A grin.

Hesitation.

A grin, fading. Softer. "Pick it up, man. They want you."

Picking it up.

A flash of disappointment?

Tseng. "Rude. Have you—"

An explosion against his ear as Reno's gun blew the phone out of his hand.

A maniacal grin.

Staring at Reno, dumbly, in shock.

"Now they know I'm here."

A shake of his head. "I could have lied."

"Really. Would you have?"

No answer. Impossible to tell, now.

Reno's arm, dropping to his side. Hesitation. Then his own arm, dropping too.

Looking at Reno now, seeing him for the first time in weeks. Skinner. Paler. Sunken cheeks. Unhealthy. Clothes, hanging far too loosely from his frame. Or maybe his frame, become far too small for his clothes. Not stylish anymore. Just plain disheveled.

But fierce as ever. A glow behind those eyes, something beyond mako. Something joyous. Free.

Challenge.

"So." His word, from Reno's lips. A gently teasing tone. "We've got four, maybe five minutes. Any fun ideas?"

Too many for words.

"Aw, come on." A hand, reaching up and brushing against his chin. "You haven't seen me for weeks and I don't even get a friendly slap on the back, or someshit?"

Helpless, frustrated silence.

"You _know_ you missed me—" Reno's voice, cracking.

And then, Reno, in his arms. Him, in Reno's. Burying his face in Reno's hair, ignoring his gun falling to the floor. That familiar smaller body, even smaller than before, pressing into his.

Lips, meeting, innocently, for three and a half long seconds.

Looking down. Reno, looking up.

"Do I get a last wish…?" Reno's voice, in his ear.

His own voice. Distant. Far. "Always."

Reno's hand on his shoulder, pushing him slightly away. Reno's eyes, closing slowly. Reno's gun, pressed into his stomach.

One whispered word.

"_Live_."

Agony, exploding into him and out the other side. Falling over backwards, rolling over, clutching at his side where blood spurted out onto his suit. Looking up, desperate, pleading.

Reno, raising one bloody hand in goodbye.

Watching Tseng and Elena rush in through the door. Elena's eyes widening, Tseng shaking his head.

Reno, turning, slow-motion, hair whipping about his head. Bringing his gun up—

Too late.

Gunshot. Gunshot.

Half of Reno's head, splattering onto the screen behind him. Half of Reno's head, dripping down onto the keyboard.

Agony.

Then, just black.

Sweet, sweet black.


	7. Chapter 7

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**Furious Angels**

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**Chapter 7**

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Awake.

Pain.

Residual tingles of Cure materia.

Sitting up. More pain.

Looking around.

Where…?

Reno!

Pain, pain, pain.

"Rude?" Elena's voice, from the side. "He's awake!" Turning to look at her. "Tseng! He's okay!"

Tseng, standing by the door. "Of course he is."

The replacement, behind him, peering in. "Man, that guy got you good."

Tseng, shoving the replacement outside. "Go report."

"But I didn't even—"

"Go!"

Emotion, in Tseng's voice?

Shock, then submission. "Yes, sir." Footsteps, scurrying away.

Wondering what happened to Reno's body.

"They said you'll be fine in a few hours, so don't worry." Elena, still not understanding. Optimistic smiles and nods. "It was a good thing we got there in time!" A blush. "I mean, not that… I… well… it… could've been worse."

Worse?

Thinking he'd rather have just died.

"Let's go, Elena."

"Just leave—?"

"Go."

"O—okay." Elena, standing up, glancing back over her shoulder. Smiling. Hopeful, now that it was over. "See you in a few hours!"

Elena, leaving. Then just Tseng, leaning on the doorframe.

Comfortable silence.

Pain.

"Well. This has never happened before." Tseng's quiet voice. Contemplation. "I would call you lucky, but I might be wrong."

A slight smile. "But 'insane,' I'll grant. Both of you."

Were, not are.

Tseng, turning to go, then hesitating.

"Hmm…"

Looking up, questioning.

"I'm glad the number stays odd for now." Knowing exactly what number he meant. "But, should you wish to make it even…"

Eyes, flicking to the table by his bed. His eyes, following Tseng's. Stopping to rest on a familiar gun. Familiar, only not his.

Reno's.

Pain…

Looking up, to see Tseng gone.

Easy. It would be so easy.

And yet…

_Live._

Pain…

Lying back down, closing his eyes, seeing red through his eyelids from the blinding lights of the hospital room.

Fade to black?

Yes, please.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Fade out.

Black.

Then—

Fade in.

Days, going by in a blur. Missions. Breaks. Weeks. Months.

Looking up now, gazing at the statues of angels leaning over the hall. Reaching for each other across the high, arched ceiling. Stretching. Fingertips, despairing for touch.

Never making it across.

Never stopping anyway.

Wondering if they were ever angry.

Church, Sector 6 slums, 4 AM. Silent. Empty pews. Sitting.

Why?

Don't know.

Wouldn't have been able to say if he tried.

A hand on his shoulder. Twitch. Resisting the reflex to turn around and start shooting. Turning around calmly instead. Looking up.

A priest.

"Can I help you, son?"

Son? Who?

Him?

"I don't mean to intrude." Apologetic. "It's just that… I've seen you here, night after night, and you never say a word…"

Silence.

"Is there something that you'd like to tell me?" Gentle words. "Many a man feels the need to trust in God… especially in Midgar. I promise that anything you tell me will never leave this room."

Silence.

One more try. "Have you… lost someone?"

Finally, an odd half-smirk. "…maybe."

Blink. Shock. "May-Maybe?"

A shake of his head. "Yes."

"Ah…" The hand, on his shoulder again.

A failed attempt at comfort. Only annoyance.

"It is hard, I know…" A sigh. "But… one must always remember that God keeps His children. All His children. Somewhere out there, your loved one is with Him."

"God?" The odd half-smirk again.

A tentative questioning look. "Yes, God…"

A pause. Then. the longest sentence he'd said in a long time.

"Reno would kick his ass."

Shock. "What—"

"So would I."

Confusion. "I understand why you might feel angry, but…"

Angry? Him?

No… not anymore.

Nothing. Just nothing.

"Sure."

His phone, vibrating against his leg, cutting off their conversation. Tseng again. Probably another mission.

Time to go kill someone again.

Standing up. Ignoring the priest staring at his back. Shoving open the double doors, smog from outside smashing into him like an invisible wall. Heading out of the church.

Looking up. The Plate, in all its rusting glory. The phone, still demanding his attention. The Gates, locked from the outside.

Nowhere to run.

Trapped.

Just like—

_Live_…

Reno's last word, echoing in his memory.

Maybe, Rude thought, maybe Reno had figured it out, sooner than him. It didn't matter, where they went. Who they worked for. What they did. No matter what, they were trapped.

Already dead.

And if they ran… nothing. No hope, no chance.

Like the angels in the Church. Always trying. Never touching. Never getting anywhere.

Even in death…

The cold, cold anger that eventually burned its way through a heart and left it empty.

Empty, now.

Bliss. Cold bliss.

Picking up the phone.

Tseng, immediately. "An escaped specimen from Hojo's lab. It was last seen heading in your direction. Sector 6. Squads are on the way; meet them at the Gate. Dangerous. Be on your guard. Elena and I will be arriving soon. Permission to move out without us: capture, contain, or destroy."

"Sure."

"Then." Almost able to hear Tseng nod. "I'll see you in fifteen."

Click.

Sticking his phone back into his pocket, turning around to take one last look at the Church.

Then, starting to run, normally at first, then faster, faster, pushing himself beyond his limits.

Wishing it were away instead of toward. Wishing it were out of Midgar. Wishing it were into the past. Away from the past.

But not. Reaching the Sector Six Gates. Watching the SOLDIER squadrons arrive. Nodding to them, then silently gesturing for them to wait.

Seeing the respect bloom in their eyes at the sight of his suit.

Knowing what it meant. Living what it meant.

Turk.

Trapped.

Like the furious, silent, despairing angels reaching for—

_Something? Nothing? Each other?_

—weapons.

Splitting up, beginning to scout the area.

Find the specimen, capture the specimen, kill the specimen.

Tseng and Elena arriving and leaving with squads of their own.

Pausing, just for a moment.

Staring down at Reno's gun in his hand.

Maybe he'd die today.

Was it wrong to hope?

_Live_…

A shake of his head.

"…"

Back to work.

* * *

Fin.

* * *


End file.
